Cape Cod's Figure in Black

by Bill Russo

  In addition to the money promised from John Doe, the capture of Crown/ Collucci would also generate a reward from the Italian government of 40,000 thousand lira, or 20,000 dollars in American currency.

  “This John Deer was very secretive on the telephone. He would not tell me how he knows about us, why he picked us, or how he knows where this Collucci guy is going to be. He claims that the crook will be walking on the Salem Willows pier at noon tomorrow looking to hire a boat to take him to Providence where his associates are going to help him escape to South America,” Carmine reported.

  “And he wants us to provide the boat?” wondered Giovanni.

  “That’s right brother. We are to put the guy and the two suitcases that he will be carrying, on Meo’s boat and then we are to take him by train to Sandwich. When we get there, we are to transport him to the Sandwich glassworks. When they receive him and the two suitcases, they will open one of the cases up and give us the rest of our payment.”

  “What form will that payment take? Old clothes?” wondered Lucca.

  “No brother. The suitcases are said to be full of United States treasury notes – 10, 20, and fifty dollar bills - a million dollars worth. And we get $49,000 out of it for our work. That plus the thousand dollars down-payment will make fifty thousand!”

  “Well if this is real,” speculated Lucca, “it is the best deal the E-I-E-I-O boys have ever had by far. It’s enough money so that we all could retire. Or buy a factory of our own. Or take a trip around the world.”

  “As the oldest brother and head of the family after Papa,” Carmine announced in his most officious voice; “I am going to declare that we owe a great favor to Meo. It is his boat that has gotten us this magnificent bounty-hunting job. I have decided that to repay this obligation, we will sanction him going out on the date with the Irish girl.”

  Bartolomeo was thrilled much more by the dating concession from his big brother, than the prospect of getting a small fortune from the reward money. With no ill effects from the swat that he received from Lucca, he rushed to the barn to hitch the mare to the buggy. Soon, he was wheeling his way towards the railroad tracks, where most of the city’s people of Irish descent lived.

  Colleen and Meo arrived at the Vaudeville Theater, just as the first act was just starting - a dance and chorus ensemble performing a medley of the day’s most popular songs. ‘Down by the Old Mill Stream’, which was the biggest hit of the summer, led off the set, followed by three other numbers. After the last song, the group repeated the sequence.

  The act was designed to run like a continuous loop for as long as it took for the theater to fill up. Some nights it might go for its planned twelve minutes, while other times the performance could be extended to consume twenty minutes or more. It was an early crowd that night. The theater reached capacity very quickly and the show moved along smoothly to great applause from the North Shore audience.

  The highlight of the ‘bill’ was the sixth act, next to closing. Mike and Marge, two of the top stars of the ‘high society’ Palace circuit, lit up the stage. Their beautiful voices blended smoothly and their elegant costumes were the envy of everyone in the house.

  With Mike brilliantly playing a golden accordion, undulating in sync to the tune; they crooned a forty year old waltz. So magnificent was their singing, that the old song seemed brand new to the Beverly audience who gave them a three minute standing ovation after their emotional rendering of the ancient 1870 hit, “Silver Threads Among the Gold”.

  “Darling I am growing old.

  Silver threads among the gold,

  shine upon my brow today.

  Life is fading fast away.

  But my darling you will be,

  Always young and fair to me.”

  On the way home, the couple took a shortcut through Ocean View Park. It wasn’t really a short cut. It was the Beverly version of lover’s lane. The two young people nervously chatted about the theater, the current state of the fishing industry, and plans for a new bridge that would make for easier access to neighboring Salem. Finally, overflowing with excitement, Meo told Colleen about the job that he and his brothers had for the next day.

  “Colleen, my share will be over $8,000 and then about another $3,000 when the money from Italy comes in. It’s more than enough to buy a house, a new car, and a beautiful wedding ring, if you will wear it.”

  “Should I say I will - or I do? “ Colleen laughed. “If you are really asking, I will say both anytime you wish. But what will your big brothers think about this?”

  “I ‘m pretty sure everything is going to be okay with the brothers on that score from now on,” he said.

  Chapter Seven:

  Pursued by the Marx Brothers

  Sunrise at sheltered Beverly harbor is always beautiful. The waterfront runs in a gentle arc towards Salem. The morning sun casts a golden pathway on the surface of the bay leading to the entrance, where the harbor narrows to less than two hundred yards.

  Hundreds of rowboats and sailboats gently rock in their moorings in the shallow waters off Ocean Street on any given day in spring, summer, and autumn. The first years of the 1900s saw steam trawlers begin to supplant sail in the fleets of the largest seaports. There was little desire or money, for such change among the anglers North of Boston. The thought of catching fish by dragging a giant net across the floor of the ocean seemed boring, unromantic, and even unfair, to traditional men of the sea.

  Oars, sails, and hand baited lines; cast and retrieved by strong arms were good enough for their fathers and grandfathers and were good enough for most of the new breed of fishermen like Bartolomeo Russo. He loved his little sail boat almost as much as he adored the freckle faced redhead Colleen O’Brien, who was soon to be his wife.

  The city of Beverly is on the left - on the opposite shore is the larger 'Witch City' of Salem

  The boat had been their father’s. It had served Antonio Senior well, following his immigration with his wife and family to the United States in 1900. He had always managed to catch enough fish and trap a sufficient quantity of lobsters to feed his wife and six fine sons. Of all the boys, only Meo and the late Guillermo had wished to fish. The others went into the construction business. After ‘Billy’ had been lost at sea, the craft was idle until Meo turned 18 and became the new Captain of the ‘Fortunato Pescatore’ – the “Lucky Fisherman”.

  Antonio Senior had given up fishing after Billy was gone. He joined his other sons in the steam-fitting trade. A quick learner, he soon was skilled enough to start his own business. Obtaining some tools and a small amount of stock and supplies, he opened a shop in a part of the barn behind the family house. The company grew rapidly and soon all of the sons except for Meo, joined the family business and turned it into the largest of its kind, North of Boston.

  There was little sun that morning, when the five brothers set out to capture Cardenio Collucci. It was a cloudy September day with scarcely a breeze.

  “Since it’s the first time any of us except for you Meo, have been on this boat in several years, it would have been nice if you had arranged for some sunshine and a bit of wind for us,” said Carmine, in about the closest thing to a joke, that his stern disposition would allow.

  The brothers came aboard the “Fortunato Pescatore” in order of their ages, first was Carmine the eldest at 32. He had become the leader of the family business following their father’s recent retirement. At a shade under five ten, he was a tall man for the times. His dark curly hair and good looks made him popular with both men and women. When he gave a bid on a construction job, it was accepted without a question or competition. He was, as mentioned previously, a serious person, not often given to humor.

  Next was Lucca. An avid health enthusiast, he was 30 and looked like an advertisement for bodybuilder Angelo Siciliano (aka-Charles Atlas) who ran notices in the newspapers offering to build weaklings into powerhouses. Lucca’s face looked much like Siciliano’s, wi
th the exception that the top of Lucca’s head was as smooth and naked as steel. Adding to their similarity was their stature - they were each 5’ 9” and weighed 180 pounds, with muscles that made women weak and strong men stare.

  Next to board, had he lived, would have been Guillermo – nicknamed ‘Billy’ so that he would fit in better in American life. His age would be 28 if he had survived the wreck of his ship off the coast of Cape Cod. He had been doing well with the family fishing boat, but accepted the offer of Captaincy of the “Nonna’s Choice”, one of the first steam powered trawlers in North America. Always an adventurer, he took the job over the objections of his parents and brothers.

  At every family dinner, Billy’s mother Conchetta, still set a plate on the table in his honor. In the center of his plate, she placed his photograph – never giving up hope that one day he would walk through her front door and she would once again have her whole family with her.

  Stepping gingerly aboard next, was Antonio Junior who was 26, and the fourth born of the boys. Why on earth was the fourth Russo son named Junior, instead of the first born?

  That was a question the family was asked thousands of times by people who didn’t understand the culture of the Italo-Americans of the North Shore of Massachusetts – especially people like teachers, doctors, police officers and busy bodies.

  The answer was very simple. Among the famiglia Russo there was a set naming order. Carmine was named for his father’s grandfather. Second born Lucca was given the name of his mother’s grandfather.

  The third boy, Guillermo was named after his mom’s only brother. If Antonio Senior had a brother, the fourth boy would have been named for the brother – absent that, boy number four became Antonio Junior. Simple? Perhaps not, but the naming system was a time honored practice carried across the sea by the vast wave of Italian immigrants in the early days of the 20th century.

  The last to get on the sail boat was Giovanni, the second youngest at 24. He was the artist of the group. He drew up all the blueprints for their jobs. He designed the buildings as well as the layouts of the pipes. He was as quick with a pencil or pen as the speediest boxer was with his hands or as an Olympic runner with his feet.

  Giovanni did not mind crafting blueprints and such, but what he really liked to do was draw sketches of his seaside community. A few of his pen and ink drawings were displayed in the Beverly Public Library and more than one art lover predicted great things for the handsome, slender young man.

  Giovanni Russo in 1910 - he served in a construction battalion in The Great War, as did his brothers.

  The youngest of the sons, Meo was 22. He had been a promising student at Beverly High School but had no desire for books. All he ever wanted to do was fish, like his big brother Guillermo. “Billy” had taken him many times with him on short fishing trips.

  The summer that Meo became a teenager, the two brothers went on a four day excursion to Mystery Island, a mostly barren land mass surrounded by a fifty foot strip of soft, sandy beaches. The fishing and camping on “Mystery” was the best in all New England. They spent most of the time during the day casting their lines for flounder and got hundreds.

  As was customary in the early 1900s, there being no refrigeration on board ship, most of the catch was salted and preserved in wooden barrels.

  At night by the glowing fire, Billy told stories of great sea adventures and powerful ship captains. The yarns would roll on for hours, one after another, until Meo finally fell asleep on the beach.

  Though Billy had been gone for more than six years, Meo thought of him every single day. He wished that Billy was...the warm memories were cut short when his oldest brother Carmine, started barking orders at him.

  “Faster! Go as fast as you can Meo. I want to get there as soon as possible in case he starts looking for a boat earlier than noon time.”

  Carmine was so intent upon capturing Cardenio Collucci that he took no notice of, or pleasure in the beauty of the bay and the rocky shoreline. As if they had heard Carmine’s command, the oppressive, billowy sky shapes above them rapidly broke up. The great, puffy clouds of gray were pushed far out to sea by a newly arrived stiff wind. By the time they docked at Salem Willows Pier, the sun had broken through. The temperature was in the mid seventies under bright sunshine.

  Carmine hustled his brothers out of the boat and began growling directives. He ordered Meo and Lucca to search the Salem Willows arcade and midway. Giovanni and Antonio were instructed to cover the rest of the area, which included picnic grounds, walking paths, a fresh water pond and salt water beaches. Carmine didn’t say what he was going to be doing, but the other brothers suspected it would be little more than checking up on them.

  A fast look at the rides, which were mostly for children under 12, revealed no person even remotely resembling the man they were seeking. Giovanni suggested that Collucci might be having a late breakfast in one of the many of the arcade restaurants that served such diverse fare as Fried Seafood, Pizza Pie, Fried Dough, Butter Baked Hamburgers with Onions and Green Peppers, and Chop Suey Sandwiches. Meo agreed and they headed for ‘Mario’s Sicilian Pizza Pies’, the first place in the elongated row of eateries, opposite a column of graceful willows.

  Meanwhile, Giovanni and Antonio trudged towards the main public beach near the entrance to the park. They noticed that the mild weather had drawn hundreds of people to the water, still warm from a hotter than usual summer.

  They saw no man matching the description they had been given and walked back towards the towering grove of trees that gave Salem Willows its name. The Willows had been planted in the early 1800s to make a quiet, contemplative place for patients of a nearby sanatorium that had long ago had occupied the park site.

  Again, finding no likely suspect, they were on their way to the boat dock when they were stopped by Carmine.

  “Any sign on him?”

  “No Carmine, we have not seen him,” reported ‘Tony’.

  “Okay. If you do spot him, don’t say anything to him. I don’t want to scare the guy off. When we see him, we’re going to let Meo convince him to come aboard the boat.”

  “Why Meo?” wondered Giovanni.

  “Cause he’s the youngest and looks very trustworthy. Collucci won’t suspect a thing with a little ‘altar boy’ like Meo doing the talking. You guys keep looking. I’m going to go back and see if the others had any luck.”

  Carmine walked past the midway towards the sprawling concourse of restaurants. He noted that there were a few people in front of the pizza pie place, and five or six waiting in line at the hamburger stand. The biggest crowd by far was at the next restaurant.

  It was a Chinese food place called ‘Salem Lowe’. There was a burgeoning line of people that stretched around the sidewalk like a snake. The queue continued into the lot behind the building where the horses were stabled, and automobiles were parked.

  There seemed to be a bigger throng around Salem Lowe’s than in all the rest of the park combined. Carmine thought it likely that Collucci would gravitate towards the most popular eatery in Salem Willows. He scanned the line looking for anyone carrying suitcases. There was no one. Walking toward the beginning of the queue he heard a familiar voice.

  “Hey Carmine, it’s us!” shouted Lucca. “We’re at the front of the line. Come over here.”

  His brothers had figured the same as he, that it was plausible that Collucci would select the most crowded shop because it gave him the best chance of meeting people who could help him hire a boat.

  “He’s not in the line,” Meo informed Carmine, “But it’s filled up inside, so we need to go in and take a look. He could be in there right now.”

  In a few minutes they reached the door and accepted the first available seats. Carmine made no secret that he was looking for someone. He got up and began striding up to each table, staring at every customer and lifting the lime colored table cloths to see if there were any suitcases hidden
beneath.

  Meo and Lucca remained in their places but were soon rousted when Carmine decreed that the prey was not in the building - “Get up you two. We’re leaving. He’s not here. I checked the whole place.”

  “Sit down Carmine,” said Lucca quietly. “We‘ve ordered chop suey sandwiches. It will only take a few minutes for us to eat, then we can walk out to the boat landing and he’ll probably show up soon. Remember, you were told noon time and it’s not even eleven yet. Your nerves are showing brother. Sit down and mangia.”

  Lucca was one of the few people who could get away with talking like that to Carmine, who generally did not accept the opinions or advice of his siblings. But,on this occasion, even Lucca could not stop the eldest brother.

  “Get up out of those chairs right now! As the head of the family after Papa, I’m giving you an official order. Outside!”

  Meo struggled to stop from laughing, as he was more Americanized than the other brothers and just as in the case of dating outside of the E-I-E-I-O’s; he didn’t always follow the order of the ‘old ways’.

  Big Lucca did observe the traditions of the old country, and he had no desire to go against the wishes of the leader of the family after Papa - but the prospect of a few chop suey sandwiches for his empty stomach was very inviting.

  Known only North of Boston, they were so good that often there was an hour’s wait at Salem Lowe’s. Lucca was fighting with himself about whether he was going to defy Carmine’s order when something stopped his struggle.

  It was Meo. The little brother said, “hold it a minute you guys, look what’s coming out of the bathroom and into the dining room. Two suitcases, and a guy! Ten to one says that’s Cardenio Coluucci.”

  “What should we do?” Lucca asked Carmine.